


the table in the corner

by MoonlightPastime



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 13:03:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10742256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonlightPastime/pseuds/MoonlightPastime
Summary: Every Thursday, Cor finds himself seated in the same cafe, with the same drink, at the same table, with the same man.





	the table in the corner

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo...I have no idea where this idea came from. I have no idea if it's going anywhere. But it was in my head and basically tore itself out onto the page so here it is.
> 
> Absolutely inspired by the incredible works about these two by jonphaedrus and thetealord who are the absolute captains of the Ardor ship. So bless them both.

“I know you.”

The café around them was bustling and busy, jammed full of people escaping the bitter cold outside. It was their thirteenth meeting. Somehow that ought to have been more a warning that it was. But Cor had never been the superstitious sort. It always started the same. Cor would wander in. Arydn would be there. Seated at the half booth table in the far corner by the window. It may as well have been _Ardyn’s_ table. No matter when Cor found himself here, the man was always- _always_ \- there.

Today, Cor had been there nearly an hour, and normally he’d be packing up to leave. But no, not today. Today he’d decided to draw the line in the sand. It was long passed time.

Ardyn blinked at him, eyes huge behind his horn-rimmed lenses. He’d been absently gnawing at the end of his dark, blood red pen for the better part of ten minutes. Cor was surprised he hadn’t managed to bite right through the end of it yet.

“Beg pardon?”

Cor leaned a bit harder on the table, empty thermos clenched between his hands. “I know you.” He repeated, meeting the other man’s eyes, unwavering. “I’ve known you for a long time.”

A familiar, mocking smile curled over Ardyn’s mouth, “Well, yes. We have been seeing quite a lot of each other these past…what? Six months? Eight? You know I’ve no head for dates Marshal.”

Part of Cor bristled at the title. Ardyn never called him by his name. Not once. It grated on the soldier’s nerves. Like nails on a chalkboard.

“That’s not what I mean.” Squeezing his hands against the thermos, trying to draw the tension out of his shoulders, Cor took a deep breath. Held it. And let it out slowly, forcing himself to meet the other man’s gaze squarely as he said, “Cauthess Central Academy.”

Some small, stupid part of Cor wondered if, perhaps, those words would be enough. If a reminder of that place would do the trick that both his face and name had failed. But Ardyn simply sat there, expression amused but blank before it twisted in confusion, pen tapping against the corner of his lips.

“The school?” Ardyn said, more to himself than Cor. He considered the idea for a minute or two, then shook his head, “I’m afraid you’ve rather lost me, Marshall. Is there some point you’re getting at?”

Was there a point. Cor almost found it in him to laugh. Almost, if not for the fact that all he could think of was the day they’d met. The first time- the real first time. When the man before him had been a pudgy, downtrodden, quiet boy, a constellation of freckles across pale skin. Who’d found Cor in one of his lowest moments, caught him firmly in soothing words and gentle hands. Pulled him back and told him that he was fine. That he was enough.

“Do you.” Cor shifted uncomfortably in his seat, unable to meet the other’s gaze. “Do you honestly not remember?”

Ardyn didn’t answer him. At least not right away. Instead he just stared at Cor. Wide almost luminescent amber eyes fixed on his face. The vague, half smile that was as much a part of the man’s apperance as his red hair. After a few moments, the man closed his eyes, shrugged his shoulders that was simultaneously dismissive and just as vague as his smile.

Cor had absolutely no way to know if the man honestly didn’t remember. Or if he was just being his usual, infuriatingly dodgy self.

Or, perhaps, there was some reason he didn’t want to remember- or admit that he did?

Gods, he was starting to sound like some conspiracy monger. He managed to drag his focus back in time to catch Ardyn’s next words, the man idly twirling a lock of hair around his finger.

“You’ve asked your questions. May I take a turn?” Cor grunted and nodded, not surprised Ardyn was asking despite not giving him anything that could even pretend to be an answer. “Why does it matter?”

That made Cor pause. Blink. Part his lips to speak. Blink. Close them.

 _Of course it matters._ A part of him wanted to argue. _Of course it does! Because I-_

But again, Cor stopped. Because. Well. Why _did_ it matter? The question was not one he’d expected. Not one he’d ever even taken a moment to consider. But now that it was there, out in the air, hovering between them and beating in his brain like a pulse, Cor found he didn’t have an answer. Didn’t have a reason.

Feeling oddly deflated, Cor slumped back against his chair.

“I…”

A familiar laugh lifted into the air. Arydn had his cheek pillowed in his hand, elbow on the table as he looked over at Cor. “You’re a strange one, Marshal.”

There was something almost this side of fond in the man’s voice. Cor couldn’t bring himself to do or say much in the face of that, still feeling horribly displaced.

Prompto made the rounds as they sat there in silence, ever so slightly teasing Cor for still being there and entirely ignoring Ardyn as he always did. Cor'd found it strange the first few weeks he'd been here, but just figured something about Ardyn made the usually bubbly blond uncomfortable. A bit strange, considering what a regular the red head was but. Whatever. It wasn't Cor's business. Hell, Cor had been nervous around the man for the first few times, but those nerves had quickly devolved into quiet annoyance. Ardyn _was_ a menace, but never truly malicious about it. At least Ardyn didn't antagonize the boy- at least, not whenever Cor was around. Cor waved off the kid's offer of another drink and Prompto left to go check on the other patrons.

“Now, I hate to cut our time short, but I do have a very pressing appointment I simply must keep. So, same time next week?”

Cor was started out of his musing and watched as the other man began gathering up his things. That was. Odd. Different. Unprecedented. Ardyn never left the café. At least, not that Cor had ever seen. Granted he usually had left by this time but. But still!

Ardyn slung his ancient paisley messenger bag over his shoulder, pulling himself up out of the booth seat with careless grace. It was a rather surreal experience finally seeing the full silhouette of the other man. He was always seated in the booth after all. Ardyn was wearing moss green, pinstripe pants, and sharp heeled boots that only accentuated his already impressive height. Stretching his arms over his head and sighing, Ardyn absently scrubbed his fingers through his hair. Propping a hip against the table, Ardyn began meticulously fixing his sweater and resettling his scarves around his neck.

Cor couldn’t help but stare as the man went through the ritual of fixing himself up. It was strangely mesmerizing. He couldn’t look away. Arydn flipped the hat perched on the edge of the booth onto his head. It was an old, black leather fedora, and while it wasn’t the first-time Cor had seen the man wear it, seeing it as part of his entire ensemble was quite a sight. The red head was- as ever- a complete disaster but he somehow made the look work. Surprisingly well in fact.

“As always, it has been a great pleasure.” An absent pat was pressed to Cor’s shoulder as Ardyn passed by. “Good day, Marshal.”

With that, Ardyn practically twirled away, heeled boots clicking on the tile floor. The door’s bell jangled merrily over the sound of dozes of voices as the red head slipped through the entering crowd and vanished. Cor only just caught himself before he climbed out of the booth and went after the man. It wasn’t any of his business what Ardyn did with his time or where he went. As the other had said- it didn’t matter.

Groaning to himself as his thoughts spun and tumbled over and over in his head, building like a physical pressure behind his eyes. Scrubbing a hand over the bridge of his nose, Cor shook his head, sighed and got to his feet.

Cor avoided the café for a full month after that.

During the weeks that elapsed, Cor tried his best to stay occupied. He visited the gym with Moncia. Hell he even visited his therapist for the first time in nearly two months. Of course, they noticed right away that something was off about him, asked him about it. But Cor’d managed to dodge that bomb shell- though not with much finesse.

As the days dragged on, however, the continued break in his ‘routine- and the lack of one curly, red headed, sharped tongued nuisance- crawled across Cor’s skin like ants.

Finally he bit the bullet, trekking across the street, and ducking into the little shop. It was nearly dark, far, far later than he usually frequented the place.

And there, seated in the corner, was Ardyn. A bolt of icy hot _something_ curled through Cor’s chest when saw the other man. He hadn’t expected (though some small part of him had _hoped_ -) him to be here. A little, gnawing bit of worry nipped at the corners of his heart when he saw that Ardyn was slumped across the table’s surface.

“Evening- oh Cor! You’re certainly here late.” Prompto’s cheerful voice rang out along with the doorbell, the blond sticking his head out from the backroom. Cor raised his hand awkwardly,

“Yeah, sorry. Know you’re closing soon.”

“No, no. It’s fine. You want your usual?”

“I. Uh. Yeah. Yeah that’s. Fine. Thanks.”

“Sure thing. I’ll bring it over. Take a seat.” The barista stopped back out towards the counter, re-tying his apron.

Cor almost laughed. Take a seat, huh? Like it was easy. Like he could just…

He fought it. He did. Cor fought tooth and fucking nail against months of habit and his own fool heart besides. Literally every other seat in the place was open and available, it was just him and the man in the corner here this late after all. Cor shifted, toe to heel, leg to leg, stopped and started half a dozen attempts to just _sit down_. And in the end, he sighed, squeezed the bridge of his nose. Sighed harder.

And took up his usual seat across from Ardyn.

The boneless mop of red hair didn’t move. Hadn’t moved at all since Cor had gotten there. And no, of course Cor hadn’t been watching him. He’d just. Gotten used to noticing the things Ardyn did. Or didn’t.

His drink had been served, by the time Ardyn stirred.

“Evening, Marshal.” The words were muffled and groggy, like Ardyn had his nose mashed against the table. He still hadn’t moved. Cor didn’t say anything. Just sipped his drink and watched Ardyn, occasionally looking to the window where the shadows were rapidly climbing up the walls across the street, gobbling up the light still glittering off the windows.

Cor fought with himself, tongue leaden in his mouth. A part of him was worried, a part of him wanted to speak and yet, while strange, the calm silence was peaceful and he didn’t want to break it.

Ardyn lifted his head. Cor had a moment when all he could see was the brilliant gold of the other’s iris, iridescent and glowing in the fragments of light that reflected from the window. He noticed the red and puffy rims, the worse-than-usual shadows beneath his eyes. And worse still the man looked…pale? Strangely so. A waxy, unhealthy tinge to his skin made him look…well. Like he was fading away. The idea was ridiculous of course, but Cor couldn’t get the nagging thought out of his head.

“So,” Ardyn drawled, chin resting in his hands as he leaned forward, bracing elbows on the table, “It’s to be the silent treatment, hmmm? Can’t say I’m terribly unused to it. Though, if you listen close enough Marshall, I’m sure you’ll head the delicate threads of my heartstrings beginning to snap under all this frigid tension.”

“You can nag me, but at least I have a life.” Ardyn laughed at that for some reason, but Cor ignored him. He was used to the man’s strange outbursts. “And at least I don’t spend it camped out in some side street café.”

Ardyn snorted and giggled under his breath, head nodding listlessly as he leaned further back into the booth, receding even more. “Touché. And yet,” Sharp, gold eyes locked with Cor’s, pinned him in place, “Here you are.”

And Ardyn was right, as he usually was. Here Cor was. Seated at the same boot, sipping at the same drink and absolutely no closer to understanding what was going on behind those expressive, brilliant eyes.

“Surely, a man like you, with all your _connections_ , all your _friends_ , shouldn’t find a need to tromp down here every Thursday morning, thirteen minutes after they open, because any earlier and it would be _rude_ and any later and it would throw off the rest of your day. Then you order the same boring black coffee- double shot of course, and sit in the same creaky old chair. There’s habit, Marshal and then there’s _obsession._ So, I find myself in the oh so delicate position of concerned, distant acquaintance asking,” Ardyn rolled the weight of his head onto one hand, smile fixed firmly around his mouth, “Haven’t you anything better to do, Marshall?”

Cor hadn’t missed the way Ardyn’s words and the jovially, nonchalant nature of his voice had been utterly betrayed by his eyes. He hadn’t missed that Ardyn hadn’t included himself at all in his recount of Cor’s routine. Hadn’t missed how much Ardyn _knew_ even if he’d thrown it all back in Cor’s face like some sort of weapon. Like it could be a wall between them.

Ardyn wasn’t the same person Cor remembered. But Cor wasn’t the same either. So perhaps, Ardyn had been righter than even he knew. The past really didn’t matter. They had the present, these new lives and moments to learn one another all over again. And Cor wanted that more than anything.

“…Not really.”

A hard, distant look crawled across Ardyn’s face. It came over him slowly, rolling across his features like a thundercloud. Dark enough that Cor wondered how he’d missed it inching closer and closer. He blamed himself being distracted by the man’s damn eyes. Ardyn’s brow hitched in and up, somehow anxious, angry and pained all at once.

Ardyn’s hands slammed down on the table top, hard and fast and sudden and only years of combat training kept Cor from jumping half a foot in the air at the noise. The other didn’t say anything, just hauled himself out of the booth and stalked towards the door. Cor threw a handful of napkins atop the place his half-drunk cup had spilled and started after him, chair screeching against the tile.

“Everything okay, Cor?” Prompto peeked out of the back of the shop again, nervously toying with the strap around his wrist.

“We’re fine.” Cor waved the young man off, not entirely sure if that was true, but unwilling to involve anyone else in…whatever this was. He missed the look of mystified concern on Prompto’s face.

Ardyn seemed to be having trouble with the door. Shaking hands fumbling with the handle, hissing under his breath in frustration. Cor reached to help him and the man skittered back like an anxious cat, huge eyes surprised, face tense. Pressing the door open, the Marshall grunted as Ardyn shouldered passed him and stumbled out into the cold night air. Sighing and rolling his eyes skyward, Cor silently asked the Six for strength and followed.

The harsh yellow light of the streetlamp caught in Ardyn’s wild hair, turning the locks into sharp, wavering flames. Cor’d honestly expected the other to storm off down the street or across the road. Instead he reached the edge of the sidewalk and jerked to a halt. He seemed to stagger back a step, the motion awkward and stiff, and caught himself be leaning against the post. The man pressed the heel of his hand into his forehead.

“I don’t understand.” He said, laughter underscoring the words. There wasn’t anything happy about it. Cor came to a stop about half a foot from where the other had stopped, hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets until Cor pulled them free and locked them together behind himself. Ardyn wasn’t even looking at him. He was, instead, staring across the street, to where evening was just finishing its slow, inevitable climb up the apartment building.

“Ardyn-” Cor finally said, when he couldn’t take the silence anymore. As strange and illogical as it was he’d _missed_ the other man. Sure, the separation had been his own doing, keeping himself away from the place for stupid reasons. But he was here now and he was worried and the other man wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t _talking-_

A quiet groan filled the air, Ardyn rolled his head back on his shoulders, head pressing to the frost covered pole behind him.

“You leave and come back.” Ardyn’s low voice was not a whisper, not quiet, but still strangely subdued, though it was starting to rise in pitch as he continued. “You _leave_. And you _._ Why do you keep _coming back?_ ”

There was genuine anger in his voice now, as Ardyn straightened and whirled on Cor, thrusting a hand out into the air.

“You’re not supposed- they don’t- they’re not-” Ardyn growled under his breath, frustrated and fuming, silver tongue finally failing him. Long fingers raked anxiously back through Ardyn’s already mussed curled, the man outright glaring at Cor now, “You’re not supposed to come back. You’re not even supposed to-”

A single tear finally escaped Ardyn’s eyes, as startling to Ardyn as it was Cor. The man brushed at his cheek, irritable and scrubbing at his face till the skin was tinted red from more than just the chill.

Mist pooled into the air as Ardyn heaved a heavy, weary sigh, hands falling way. His shoulders slumped, down and in and he looked.

Not himself.

The soldier found himself. Disconcerted. It wasn’t so much Ardyn’s, inane, incoherent ramblings that were setting him on edge. He knew well Ardyn was more than capable of filling hours and days and space with nothing but mindless chatter. He was used to that. It was. Something else. Something tense and sharp and still in the air between them. Like standing on a precipice and looking down and knowing the only thing between you and death was a single step forward.

“Why do you even bother?” Ardyn’s voice was a low, gaping void. A distance between them that yawned, dark and huge.

“I don’t know.” Cor said, honest, unable to look away. He took the step forward. “But I want to.”

Ardyn’s impossible, wet, gorgeous eyes stared into his.

The kiss was nothing to write home about. An inelegant mashing of noses and more teeth than lip, Cor wavering a little off kilter because Ardyn had practically fallen against him. Ardyn’s lips were chapped with cold and they grated over his like fine sandpaper.

Cor’s fingers dug tighter into the plush curves of Ardyn’s hips, where they had quite happily settled to steady the man. The red head was practically climbing into Cor’s coat. The Marshal knew the man hadn’t even an ounce of common sense in his head. Who in anything close to their right mind would head out this time of year without a gods damned jacket? But he didn’t grumble too much at the heavy, sedating warmth coming from the other man. Still, he could feel Ardyn shaking against him, slight but still present. Some how he thought (knew, from the tiny, whimpered noises in the back of Ardyn’s throat) it wasn’t just from the cold. Cor didn’t even try to stop himself from reaching and sliding a hand deep into thick, silky curls.

“You’re a good man.” The low words were lost in a murmur and brushing of skin on skin, lips on lips. “You’re a _good_ man so. Don’t. Don’t waste that. Not here. Not on me.” Even as Ardyn said the words, even sounding like he _meant_ them, Cor could feel his long fingers digging deeper and deeper into the folds of Cor’s coat. Desperate, grasping, needy, _pleading-_

Cor knotted his fingers tighter into thick curls and hauled Ardyn closer. Kissed him deeper. Held him tighter. Pulled him closer, then closer still.

“Ardyn.” Cor finally broke them apart. Both men gasping desperately for what little air could squeeze between their lips. Ardyn’s eyes were glittering and bright and beautiful. His pupils blown wide and his expression open and blissful, wild and _alive_. “Shut up.”

Ardyn’s smile curled against him, sharp as the teeth that caught his lower lip between them.

“Make me.”

Cor had never been one to back down from a challenge.

 

*****

 

“I do remember.” Ardyn whispered to Cor’s spine, between his shoulder blades, lips to bare skin late that night. In the quiet and the dark, when he was sure the other was sleeping. “I do. Because, my dearest Marshal, you’re the only one who ever sees me.”

 

*****

**Author's Note:**

> (Ardyn may or may not be a ghost/spirit/apparition/figment of Cor's mind. I honestly don't know. The bastard won't tell me.)


End file.
